Nathan Glazer's endless thoughts

By Casey Lartigue, Jr.

Attending a special alumni weekend lecture by Harvard University emeritus professor Nathan Glazer about 15 years ago, I began introducing myself as one of his former students. Prof. Glazer interrupted, saying, "Mr. Lartigue. I shall never forget you."

I had been infamous at the Harvard Graduate School of Education (HGSE), zigging and zagging across the campus at top-speed with intellectual scissors and debating knives in both hands.

Engaging Prof. Glazer was like a chess match with a world champion who could call "checkmate" at your first move if he wanted to. It didn't matter which book, article or speech I mentioned ― Prof. Glazer knew it. Learning was more important than winning a debate.

One writer smartly noted: "Nathan Glazer has had more second thoughts in his lifetime than most people have had thoughts."Even that was an understatement. Professor Glazer had never-ending thoughts.

In 1975 he published the book "Affirmative Discrimination," arguing against affirmative action. A dozen years later, he softened his argument, and even seemed to contradict himself another decade later with "We're All Multiculturalists Now." A conclusion for Prof. Glazer was as permanent as a temporary tattoo.

I could identify with that. I had gone from being a Republican to Democrat to progressive to flirting with Marxism before flipping to Objectivist and libertarian, then finally settling on, to quote Prof. Walter E. Williams, being "an extremist, and extremely proud of it."

I zigzagged across campus, then discovered the free-floating intellectualism of Prof. Glazer and philosophy Prof. Robert Nozick. Without regret, they had both publicly changed positions on issues. I felt at home in their classes and offices, free to probe and challenge without anyone getting wounded by my words.

Indeed, my relentless style had wounded many classmates, much as it destroys sensitive souls today. I was informed by one wounded classmate that minority students had held a meeting about "neutralizing" me.

The latest last straw: I had challenged a popular minority professor at a public forum. Some of those critics later revealed themselves when I encountered them in discussions. I insisted they invite me rather than holding clandestine meetings without their targeted guest of honor participating.

In welcoming discussion rather than debate, I found a soulmate in Prof. Glazer. I convinced him to be my graduate school adviser, despite his polite dismantling of my arguments. One day when I visited during his office hours, I made what seemed to be a profound point.

"Good point," he said, pondering it without being defensive. Silence. I waited for a rebuttal or reading list, thinking I had stunned him with a lucky punch but expecting to get slaughtered again.

He analyzed the point from what seemed like 18 different angles, ending with the question he often asked in class after evaluating every possible angle: "What does it all mean?"Every idea was like a flag planted in moving water, at risk of being swept away by the latest statistics, research, or insight.

We maintained occasional correspondence in his later years. I attempted to invite him to Korea and had also recommended him to a group visiting Harvard, but in both cases Korean parents vetoed him as a speaker. They said he was too old and, as a retired professor, wouldn't be influential enough to help their kids get into Harvard.

I invited him to speeches I gave recently at Harvard, but he said he was too broken down physically. Last year he wrote to tell me that he had broken his leg. He seemed to be more bothered that he was losing his eyesight.

A gentleman who had spent a lifetime reading so he could continue "arguing with the world," he probably would have preferred two broken legs instead of losing his eyesight.

In one of my last messages to him, I mentioned that a Korean friend had come across his name in her course syllabus. He expressed surprise that South Koreans were reading his 1963 classic "Beyond the Melting Pot."

At the age of 95, he remained curious about my activities with North Korean refugees, suggesting repeatedly that I should write something for Harvard Magazine. I was the teacher, he was the student, but he was still my adviser. I sent him links to my columns and speeches and welcomed his queries.

His last sentence to me: "I am writing from a rehab facility, recovering from a broken leg, surgery. Not a good thing at 95, if I go I hope the obituary will reach Korea."

Nathan Glazer ― renowned thinker, journal editor, professor, sociologist, presidential adviser, author of 20 books and my graduate school adviser ― passed away earlier this year, on Jan. 19, at the age of 95.

This is probably not the obituary Prof. Glazer envisioned. Then again, knowing me as he did, he might have expected it.

Casey Lartigue, Jr., co-founder along with Eunkoo Lee of the Teach North Korean Refugees Global Education Center (TNKR), is the 2017 winner of the "Social Contribution" Prize from the Hansarang Rural Cultural Foundation and the 2017 winner of the Global Award from Challenge Korea.